


if i had a heart, i could love you

by sablize



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 8x17, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Goodbye Stranger, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-23
Updated: 2013-03-23
Packaged: 2017-12-06 04:34:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/731476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sablize/pseuds/sablize
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sight of his face gives her just enough energy to let out a sardonic little laugh and say, “Here to rescue me again, Clarence?”</p><p> </p><p>An alternate ending to 8x17.</p>
            </blockquote>





	if i had a heart, i could love you

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys, it’s been a while! I’ve been so busy with original fiction that I haven’t had much time for fic. But here’s a (very very short) drabble for 8x17 because I’m still pissed that Meg died and I needed to make it right. Also bonus Megstiel just for shits.

She's gasping for breath.

Which is stupid, she thinks, lying there on the asphalt. She doesn't actually _need_ to breathe. It's just that she's been in this vessel—and others, but this one specifically—for so long that breathing is practically second nature to her.

So she breathes.

She wishes she could move a little, even just enough to roll over, but while Crowley's wound is not enough to kill her outright, it's enough to weaken her. It's probably going to kill her eventually. All she has left to do is lie there on the ground, staring at a clump of weeds that managed to push through a crack in the pavement, and wait for death to claim her.

It's a pitiful sort of way to die, she thinks. She'd always imagined that her death would be magnificent, glorious—that she would go down in a blaze of fire, taking hordes of the enemy (or at least Crowley, the bastard) with her. Instead, she's bleeding out on cold, rain-slicked asphalt, totally alone, dying slowly with barely enough energy left for anything but a tired frown.

She's pissed at the injustice of it all.

But suddenly there are footsteps, the rustle of clothing. There's a hand on her shoulder, shifting her. Her head rolls weakly (though at least now she can see the sky). Still, she doesn't protest, or try to defend herself; she may be pissed, but she knows when she's beaten.

It's Castiel.

(She should've known.)

The sight of his face gives her just enough energy to let out a sardonic little laugh and say, "Here to rescue me again, Clarence?"

He doesn't say anything, just presses his lips together in a tight little line and leans down to press a hand to her side. Her skin itches as it knits back together, closing the gaping wound Crowley left. She exhales slowly as the pain fades. And then she smiles, just a little.

Castiel offers a hand and she takes it. She stands, and he has to hold her arm to keep her steady as her legs nearly give out beneath her, still weak from her near-death experience. She can feel what must be the angel tablet in the inner pocket of his trenchcoat, pressing hard against her side where she's leaning against him.

She pushes away from him after a second, though, because goddamnit if she hasn't shown enough weakness around him already. "Thanks," is all she says, quiet and succinct. Then she levels him with a look that dares him to call her out on her damsel-in-distress moment, but he doesn't.

Instead, he just replies, "You're welcome," and squeezes where his hand has lingered on her shoulder. She expects him to disappear now, but he doesn't do that either; instead, he hesitates before he pulls her close, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. And damnit if her eyes don't close, just for a second, in contentment (but mostly in exhaustion).

He's gone before her eyes open again, off to talk to the Winchesters or hide the angel tablet or do whatever it is he normally does (he's so different that she doesn't really know anymore). Still, she turns her face skyward, smirking. "You sentimental son of a bitch," she says, and she hopes that he hears it.


End file.
